


Until We Let Go

by frostysunflowers



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet Ending, Canonical Character Death, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hugs, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Late Night Conversations, Not A Fix-It, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Sad Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Angst, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 00:49:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19051894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostysunflowers/pseuds/frostysunflowers
Summary: ''So you’re like Yoda now?''Tony shrugs. ''Maybe more like Obi-Wan. Green isn’t really my colour.''Even in death, Tony can't help but want to fix things.





	Until We Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been in bit of an angsty hole recently. A mash up of post-endgame blues (I went and saw it again and it broke me again) and a lot of self-pity, low self-esteem and self-doubt over the response to my last fic which I put so much love and effort into thinking more people would enjoy it (I know I know it sounds silly) has led to me staying up all night to write this sad little piece. I didn't even want to post it but I think I need to so I can exorcise my demons, as it were.
> 
> So here it is, I cried a lot but I think that's the point haha. Enjoy! Not beta read, soz.

Tony knows he’s dead before he even opens his eyes.

There’s a weightless, transparent feel to him now, making him stumble a little as he tries to take a couple of steps.

Everything around him is white; a vast, gaping void of searing blankness that feels suffocating in its size. He wanders aimlessly for a while before he starts to panic, before a lurching desperation seizes hold of him and propels him forward, wrenches furious demands for someone to answer him from his throat, nearly sends him to his knees in tears until –

''Stark.''

He opens his eyes to look up at the man standing in front of him, ethereal and shining.

 _''Yinsen,''_ he breathes, the name passing his lips like a prayer.

The man smiles at him and holds out a hand.

''Come along, old friend. We have much to discuss.''

Tony doesn’t hesitate to reach out.

 

* * *

 Tony fidgets, ignoring the persistent pulling that seems to maintain a constant hold of him; like a finger snagging the back of his jacket to keep him from going too far. Yinsen does his best to explain it to him, but Tony is no clearer on the whole being dead and turning into a ghostly version of himself thing than he was before.

''You, the man who once had nothing, sacrificed _everything_ for the sake of the universe.'' Yinsen says, staring at Tony with so much pride on his face. ''Did you think that your actions would go unrewarded?''

''Not just for the universe,'' Tony says quietly, looking over at where everybody is standing by the lake, watching the flowers carrying his arc reactor, the thing that kept a space open for his heart to grow into, sail away into the distance. ''For my  _world_.''

He turns to Yinsen then, a burning question on his lips. ''Did you find your family?''

The soft smile on Yinsen’s face is answer enough.

''Don’t question it too much, Stark. Just enjoy what the universe has given you.''

''What _has_ it given me?''

Yinsen looks knowingly at him. ''Time.''

_No amount of money ever bought a second of time._

Yinsen leaves him then, vanishing with an irritatingly vague promise of seeing him soon, and Tony is left to watch as his friends, his family, mourn together, huddle together closely in their grief and share tears and fond memories long after the sun goes down.

He’s never seen so many people in his house. It was always just him, Pepper and Morgan. Sometimes, more often that not, Happy and Rhodey would be there too but that was it. It’s a sight that both warms and depresses him and he hovers near Pepper for some semblance of comfort, breathing in her scent and wishing with all his heart that he could talk to her.

He follows her as she takes Morgan to bed, recites the book that she reads as a bedtime story, voice melding softly with hers, and presses a non-existent kiss to Morgan’s head as she snuggles down under the covers.

''Mommy?''

''Yes, sweetheart?'' Pepper says from the doorway.

''Do you think Daddy misses us?''

Tony’s heart shatters and, judging from the look of utter agony on Pepper’s face, hers does too.

''I do, honey. As much as we miss him, if not more.''

Morgan nods, as though satisfied with the answer, and rolls over with a little sigh. Pepper stares at her sadly for a moment before tears overwhelm her and she hurries away, pulling the door shut and disappearing into the bedroom down the hall. The bedroom that used to belong to the two of them, but now just to Pepper.

Tony can’t bring himself to follow her. Instead he heads back down the stairs, pausing halfway down as he takes in the sight before him.

There’s blankets and pillows all over the place; cushions have been lined up as makeshift mattresses and every spare towel has been rolled up so that everybody has a place to rest their head. Thor is stretched out across the kitchen counter, dreadlocks spilling around his head like a golden halo whilst Groot and Rocket huddle up together with their backs against the fridge in a tangle of fur and bark. Tony settles down on the steps, head resting on his hands and elbows on his knees, drinking it all in.

His chest flutters with fondness as Happy makes sure Harley has enough pillows. Clint and his family essentially sleep in a massive pile, Clint at the bottom and the rest flopped on top of him. Everybody seems to find somebody to stay close to, to weather the sorrow with as it lingers in the room, thick and heavy. Tony feels a surge of gratefulness as Rhodey makes sure Nebula is comfortable in a chair before settling down in his own beside her.   

Out of everybody, Steve and Rhodey take the longest to fall asleep. Rhodey eventually dozes off in the chair he’s sitting in and Steve makes sure to cover him with a blanket, patting his shoulder fondly before dropping down on the floor near to Sam and Bucky, back to the wall and drifting off with his head tilted back and chest rising and falling gently.

Tony’s eyes sweep over the sea of sleeping people, seeking out a face that isn’t there.

A movement alerts him to Quill shuffling around in the corner.

Tony steps through the room on tiptoes, arms out for balance like it would matter at all if he fell and moves towards the far end of the room. Two voices whisper softly from behind a mountain of pillows and he wastes no time in peeking round the side curiously.  

Peter and Quill, the only two left awake in the household, sit side by side together on the floor. Peter has his knees drawn up to his chest, looking so much smaller than usual, and Quill is stretched out comfortably beside him, head propped up on one hand as he looks up at the youngster.

 Tony sits down cross legged in front of them, leaning in close to hear their hushed voices. He notices the tear stains on Peter’s cheeks, the dishevelled mess of hair that only comes from fingers raking through it, and longs for nothing more than the ability to hold the kid again.

''I’ve not told you about my dad, have I?''

Peter takes the bag of blueberries that Quill offers to him and chews a couple thoughtfully. ''Mantis mentioned him…she said he was a planet?''

Quill snorts. ''Oh, that asshole? No, he was merely my father.'' He waits for Peter to question the difference but carries on when Peter nods understandingly. ''My old man was a blue space pirate called Yondu.''

Peter sniggers and dips into the bag for another handful. ''He was blue?''

''Oh yeah.'' Quill tips the bag towards his mouth. ''Had gnarly sharp teeth and a red fin on his head.''

''Like a shark?''

Quill blinks before grinning in delight. ''That’s probably the nicest way of describing him, yeah.''

Peter laughs properly then and Tony’s heart swells as the sound. ''What was he like?''

''Oh, he was an absolute dick,'' Quill says seriously, but a fond smile ghosts his lips, like he was remembering something. ''But not a hundred percent of the time.''

Peter sighs. ''I don’t really remember my parents much. Like, it’s hazy, but I know they were nice. And May has always been there and Ben, my uncle, he…um…'' Peter pauses, like he can’t quite find the words. Quill waits patiently, but Tony finds himself leaning further forward, needing to hear more, needing the kid to speak just to hear the sound of his voice. ''He was always like what I imagined a dad would be…and then there was Tony…''

Quill lowers the bag of blueberries and reaches over to clap a hand onto Peter’s shoulder.

''Look, I didn’t know Tony well, and I wish I had ‘cause after all this, well, it’s clear to see that he was a great guy in a hell of a lot of ways.'' He gave Peter a little shake. ''But I didn’t need to know him well to see how much he loved you. It was as clear as that adorable little nose on your face.''

He moves his hand to tweak Peter’s nose and Peter chuckles wetly before sniffing and brushing away the stray tear under his left eye. Quill smiles before heaving himself up with a groan, grabbing an armful of pillows as he rights himself.

''Try and get some sleep, buddy.''

Peter watches him go before curling back in on himself. There’s a blanket on the floor beside him, something Tony didn’t notice before, and his arms ache to tuck the kid in as Peter grabs a pillow and stretches out on the floor, yanking the blanket up and pulling out his phone with his other hand.

Tony scrabbles to get a good angle, craning his neck to see what Peter’s looking at. His chest accidentally brushes Peter’s arm and the kid shivers, tugging the blanket up even higher. The movement waves the phone into Tony’s line of vision and he spots the picture on the screen; one of him and Peter screwing around in the lab, laughing together at something Dum-E had done.

Tony sighs, body throbbing with the need to just reach out and touch Peter. He reaches a hand forward, the movement quick and sudden, an impulse, and he sees Peter’s brow furrow before he turns to look behind him.

To stare directly at Tony.

Tony freezes.

''Kid?'' he whispers.

Peter’s frown deepens, a look of discontent crossing his features, eyes glistening with brimming wetness. Then he lets out a small choking breath and buries his face into his pillow, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Disappointment crushes Tony under an agonising weight. He hangs his head and takes a breath, sucking it in through his teeth in a low, agonised growl before he settles in beside Peter, crying tears of his own long into the night right alongside him.

 

* * *

 

He opens his eyes to unfamiliar surroundings.

Music rings out from an open window and he allows himself to be pulled towards him, sweeping through the fluttering curtains until he’s standing in the middle of a living room. The décor screams post-war with the patterned curtains and black and white pictures decorating the mantle and the record spinning on the turntable.

And the couple swaying in the middle of the room, wrapped up tightly in each other’s arms.

_Never thought that you would be, standing here so close to me, there’s so much I feel that I should say…_

Somehow, Tony knows that the Steve standing there is _his_ Steve. Not one from a past time or a reality outside of their own, but the Steve that he knows, his comrade, his _friend._ Tony doesn’t need to know why or how. He just knows.

He wonders if Steve remembers him, if the Peggy dancing with him knows all that had to happen for her to have the love of her life back in her arms, dancing with her on a lazy summer afternoon while the world drifts idly by outside their window.

Tony starts as Steve opens his eyes and looks directly at him for a second, his blue gaze clear and focused, before he smiles. Tony automatically returns it and feels his heart lift with hope before it crashes as Steve’s eyes flicker away. It leaps again for a whole different reason and lodges in his throat as he watches Steve gaze down at Peggy, smile growing bigger as she looks back up at him adoringly. They carry on swaying, lips pressed together in a kiss that speaks of nothing but sweetness and all the time in the world, and Tony allows himself a moment longer to watch them before he gives into the pulling sensation at his back and fades away to the closing notes of the song.

* * *

As the days go by, Tony becomes more and more convinced that Peter can sense his presence.

Morgan and Pepper, no matter how much he tries, react with nothing but a mere shiver if he gets too close to them. He can’t bear the pinched expression on Pepper’s face as she valiantly moves through each day, but never falters in his nightly visits to her bedside where he presses ghostly kisses into her hair for hours on end. He longs to touch Morgan, feels his fingers fizz desperately for the feel of her soft hair and baby-smooth skin. He sits with her often as she hides away in her tent or plays with her toys, doing all the stupid voices for each one like he used to. Morgan always pauses long enough after she speaks her part, like she’s waiting for him to do his bit, and he can almost kid himself that she knows he’s there.

Peter, however, is a different story.

Tony’s movements will sometimes turn the kid’s head, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed as he stares at wherever Tony is standing. Tony resorts to all manner of methods to try and reach the kid; shouting, screaming, getting right up in his face and reciting classic movie lines in poor imitation voices. He even tries moving physical objects but the most he can ever achieve is making the curtains billow softly, something that is always mistaken for a breeze.

Nothing works.

Peter doesn’t see him.

But Tony sees Peter.

He sees the front and the brave smiles. Hears the way too high pitch of Peter’s voice whenever he reassures someone that he’s fine, notices the way he brushes off his own pain so that he can be there for whoever else is struggling.

Sees the tears that fall long after everyone else is asleep, hears the sobs that are muffled into a pillow every single night.

Tony looks for something good, for a flicker of cheerfulness or joy somewhere in the cavern of misery that Peter seems unable to crawl out of, no matter how much the others try to help him.

He even follows the kid to school, searching for any sign that the sadness isn’t so deep and sometimes there’s a glimpse of what could be happiness, but then the mask will slip and the sorrow is laid bare for all to see, gaping and fresh like an open wound that just won’t heal.

Tony hates it. The resentment for not being able to do a single thing, for not being able to touch or hold those that he loves, to do anything except float around aimlessly and be _dead_ , grows and grows until he can’t contain it any longer.

It fills him up, more and more, until one evening, when he’s standing in the room that Peter is staying over in, he manages to seize hold of a nearby textbook and launch it into the pillow with a furious yell.

It takes him a good few seconds to realise that Peter, who had previously been rooting around in his bag on the floor, is standing up and staring.

Directly at him.

Tony whirls to face him properly, hope surging upwards inside of him like rushing water.

''Pete,'' his voice is gentle but Peter still jumps as though he’s been slapped, eyes growing impossibly wide and filling with fresh tears.

''M…Mister Stark?''

He never thought the sound of his name could be so precious.

''It’s me, buddy.''

Peter takes a step back before taking another two forward, dancing slightly on his feet and wringing his hands. ''H-how - ?''

''I don’t know,'' Tony says quickly with a shaky laugh. ''I don’t know but it’s happening because I’m here. I’m here, kid.''

Before Peter can begin to think too much, Tony closes the distance and wraps his hands around Peter’s upper arms, transparent fingers solidifying against his skin and anchoring him in a firm hold. Peter’s head lolls a little to the side and his legs buckle, sending him stumbling into Tony’s waiting arms. Trembling fingers pluck at the back of Tony’s jacket and a cold nose pushes into his collarbone and a mess of curls tickles his chin and it’s the most incredible feeling in the world, the most perfect thing.

Because it’s Peter.

He’s _holding_ Peter and Peter is holding him _back._

Tony’s hands track over every inch that he can touch; tapping his fingers across Peter’s waist, gripping his shoulders, swirling over his ears and into his hair before settling against the expanse of his shivering back and crossing over one another in an unbreakable hold. He presses a kiss onto Peter’s cheek and can’t help the sharp jittery breath that escapes him.

''Mister Stark…'' Peter whispers a second before he begins to sob. Wet tears slid onto Tony’s skin and trail down his chest, cracking his heart and making his skin burn with a brutal sadness. He clutches the kid even tighter, rocking them from side to side in an odd swaying motion, reassurances flowing from his mouth in a steady torrent of soft murmurs. ''Tony…''

''I’m sorry, bud.''

They cling to each for what seems like an eternity, and yet it feels like they’re separating far too quickly to look at one another again. Peter peers up at him through his tears, gaze disbelieving and bright with hope and oh so full of a love that Tony just wants to drown in.

''Would it help if I quoted Star Wars?'' Tony quips, voice cracking a little. '' _Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter.''_

Peter laughs softly, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his sweatshirt – Tony’s sweatshirt, he notices – and grins at him.

''So you’re like Yoda now?''

Tony shrugs. ''Maybe more like Obi-Wan. Green isn’t really my colour.''

Peter snorts and shakes his head and Tony grins at the familiarity of it all. He keeps hold of Peter, eyes passing over his face in regular sweeps, desperate to soak up every inch of him.

''C’mon, spider-baby.'' Tony says, guiding them over to the bed. ''Let’s catch up, huh?''

They talk. And talk and talk, about everything and nothing, skirting around the obvious and focusing on all the little details that suddenly seem more important than anything. They’d always been good at it, bouncing off one another in streams of sass and teasing and long-suffering sighs and eye rolling and Tony feels the urge to soar up into the sky as Peter laughs and smiles at him, looking at him with those big brown eyes with nothing but love shining in them.

They’ve been robbed of so much, Tony realises; denied so much that should have been shared together. In the time between Peter’s defeat of Toomes and the actions of Thanos, they had grown close, no question about it, but Tony had been unable to take that final step, to cross the line that would cement the intensity of the bond that exists between them.

He regrets it more than anything now. Laments the loss of all that could have been, all that should have been because now, he looks at Peter and sees him for what he truly is.

His son.

It’s a bittersweet thing to have this moment only in death when life should have afforded them so many more. Yet, for all its newness, cuddling Peter close and whispering to each other in the soothing darkness of the room feels as natural as breathing, like it’s the way things have always been.

The sky is changing to the colours of the dawn when Tony finally allows himself to focus on the elephant in the room. He sees the shadows under Peter’s eyes, the tired sallowness of his skin, the red hue of his eyes and the way his body seems to droop with sorrow, every fibre of his being absolutely worn down by it.

''You can’t carry on like this, Underoos.'' Tony says, carding a hand through Peter’s hair.

Peter nods. ''I know.''

He tilts into Tony’s arms and Tony increases the strength of the hold he has on him, all but swallowing the kid up in the embrace.

''I just miss you.'' Peter says quietly, nuzzling tiredly into Tony’s collarbone.

''I wish we’d had more time,'' Tony murmurs, pressing his face back into Peter’s hair and breathing in deep. ''I wish…God, I wish I had a hundred years, a thousand years, to give to you, kiddo.''

Peter nods hurriedly against him, shoulders jerking again as the tears overwhelm him once more, and Tony holds him through it, rocking him back and forth and hushing him like it’s nothing more than a bad dream.

God, if only it was.

''I’d love to tell you that I’ll always be here, Pete.'' Tony says after a while, leaning back once again. ''Always right here to listen to you, but the truth is…for once, I’ve got no idea what’s going to happen. Nada, nothing, zilch.'' He gives a wobbly laugh. ''What happens after this is a mystery to me.''

It’s a disconcerting notion for the both of them, Tony can tell. Peter looks at him so sadly, so full of heartbreak, that it’s like dying all over again.

There was always an answer, a way, an idea and if not, there was the ability to figure something out from what they had; Peter had always looked to him for the answers, but for the first time ( _last time)_ Tony had none to give to him. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, leaves him feeling useless and pointless and beyond desperate for a way to fix it, just like he always had.

A notion enters his head then, knowledge that was never his before but somehow, he knows it, like it had always been in the back of his mind since the moment he opened his eyes again.

Tony reaches up to cup Peter’s face, ducking down a little so that they’re almost nose to nose.

''But I’ve got a feeling…'' he says gently, thumbs brushing Peter’s cheeks. ''That even though this might seem like forever, saying goodbye, we’ll be together again. I’m sure of it.''

He moves a hand down to press against Peter’s chest, savouring the warmth of the skin passing through his fingertips. ''But for now, I’ll be here.''

He taps the space above Peter’s heart and quirks his mouth into a smile.

''As long as you remember me, of course.''

Peter almost looks insulted.

''I could never forget you,'' he insists, voice full of a firmness that suddenly makes him seem so much older.

The kid has an entire lifetime to live and yet Tony knows that his place in Peter’s heart will always remain the same.

Tony’s smile grows and he taps the space again. ''Then this is where I’ll be.''

Tony coaxes the kid to lie down, stretching out beside him on the bed with Peter’s head leaning into his thigh and his hand tugging in soft repetitive motions through Peter’s tousled hair.

''You should sleep, kid.'' Tony murmurs as Peter yawns so widely that his jaw cracks.

''Will you be here when I wake up?''

Tony doesn’t answer and his face must say it all because Peter’s expression crumbles for a moment, lips pressing together and nose wrinkling and eyes narrowing against a fresh onslaught of tears, before he nods stoically.

''I love you, you know.'' Peter mumbles, shuffling closer to Tony and curling an arm around his leg, fingers clutching tightly at the fabric of his jeans.

''Oh, kiddo.'' Tony’s body seems to shimmer at the words and the rush of affection he feels is almost too much. ''I love you too,'' he replies, vison blurring a little as Peter smiles sleepily. ''Always have.''

He pushes a few stray curls behind Peter’s ear and rubs the spot of skin there with the pad of his thumb. ''Don’t waste your life grieving for me, kid, okay? It’s good to be happy, you know.''

Peter’s fingers flex against Tony’s leg but he nods, smiling a bit wider now. ''I know.''

''Promise me, Pete.''

''Promise.''

Tony stays there as Peter drifts off, lulled by Tony’s fingers carding lightly through his hair, and stares at the kid’s face, fully absorbed by him, loving him so fiercely that it’s a wonder that he doesn’t split in half from the sheer force of it.

He’s idly wondering where all that love will go when he’s gone when there’s a sudden swooping sensation and Tony feels Peter slip from his grasp.

They’re still on the bed, except Peter’s arm is resting on the mattress instead of draped over Tony’s leg, passing through the glow of Tony’s body like he wasn’t there at all.

Because he isn’t.

Blistering agony courses through him, a pain fiercer than the searing heat that had burnt through him as he wielded the stones, and he jumps up with a despairing gasp, looking around desperately as though an answer will suddenly present itself.

''No no no,'' Tony moans, flitting around Peter in a mad dance, hands passing through every part that they try to touch. ''Kid, I – _please – ‘'_

''Tony.''

A hand takes hold of his and he spins, finding himself standing back over by the bedroom door, looking into the face of -

 _''Nat?''_ He gasps, grasping her hand tightly between both of his.

She beams at him, radiant and bright, the tears in her eyes sparkling like diamonds.

''What? You didn’t think I’d be here with you?''

He hugs her tightly, gripping her with all his strength, closing his eyes for a moment as she holds him back just as strongly.

''Oh, god – Nat, I’m so sorry – ''

''Don’t be,'' she murmurs into his shoulder before moving to see his face. ''I’m not.''

''But you – ''

'' - Did what needed to be done for my family.'' She gives him a small shake. '' _Our_ family. And you know as well as I do that it was more than worth it.''

Tony turns back to look at Peter. Pepper and Morgan are with him now, when did that happen? He doesn’t know but he can’t look away from the sight; Pepper with her arms around Peter in a motherly embrace, cuddling him as he cries and Morgan holding one of his hands and leaning into his legs as she stares sadly up at him with kind brown eyes.

His body, his mind, _his entire soul_ , aches for them, longs to be with them and it’s such an all-consuming need that he finds that he can barely breathe.

Nat’s hand squeezes his.

''They’ll be okay, you know.''

_We’re gonna be okay._

_You can rest now._

''Come on.'' Nat tugs on his hand. ''There’s people waiting for you.''

He looks up as the room begins to fade around them and sure enough, there’s silhouettes coming to life in the distance, drawing closer until he recognises his mother’s eyes gazing adoringly at him and his father smiling at him with so much pride that Tony has to throw an arm over Nat’s shoulder to steady himself.  

A moment later, Jarvis appears, paternal fondness obvious in every line of the weathered face that Tony loved – loves – so much.

And Yinsen with that knowing smile of his.

_Don’t waste it. Don’t waste your life._

He looks back again as the world continues to fade. Soaks in the sight of his wife, his daughter, his son.

His life.

His unbelievable, wonderful, beautiful life.

Tony takes a deep shuddering breath and allows Nat to pull him forward into the approaching light. He’d wondered before where all the love, his and those that he left behind, would go when this was all over.

Now he knows.

It washes over him in a wave of blissful heat, wrapping him up in every memory, every word, every moment that was ever shared between them all, lifting him up on a gentle current that pushes away the unbearable heartache of leaving and fills every fibre of his being with peace.

It’ll do, he thinks to himself as he drifts away.

Until they’re all together again.

 

* * *

_Goodbye may seem forever,_

_Farewell is like the end,_

_But in my heart is a memory,_

_And there you'll always be._

 

**Author's Note:**

> I know I know, massive daylight robbery of elements of A Monster Calls, Ghost and the Fox and the Hound in here but I just couldn't help it haha, it fit the idea so well. I don't know about anybody else but I'm still struggling haha, actually bordering on a little bit ridiculous now; all I wanna do is write and read all the fics that give me all the feels which is hard seeing as I'm meant to be a fully functioning adult with a kid, a job, a degree which I'm soooo behind in and other responsibilities...oops haha. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed, let me know if you did!


End file.
